


Hear Me Out

by erintoknow



Series: Fallen Hero Sidestep AU Fanfics [7]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén
Genre: Date Night, Extra-Canonical, Gen, Mind Games, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Tension, Training, Trans Character, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-01 19:28:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20263312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erintoknow/pseuds/erintoknow
Summary: It’s hard not to think about what happened last month. Storming the military base, barely holding yourself together while Zia, no– Nemesis effortlessly wrapped herself around mind after mind, pulling them into whatever shape she wanted. The speed and fluidity with which she worked, her ability to grace over multitudes without being overwhelmed in return…“I… want your help for something.” You fidget with the hem of your blouse, chew at the inside of your cheek. “But not for a mission.”A smirk pulls at Zia’s face and she finally turns her head to look at you. “You can just say you want me you know.”The heat rising up your face. “What? No, no no no no.” You wave your hands in protest. “That’s– that’s the last thing on my mind, Jesus.”





	Hear Me Out

**Author's Note:**

> Zia loaned generously by [Swan](https://ratkingkisses.tumblr.com) additional thanks for looking things over / giving feedback!!

“Ariadne, sweetheart, a pleasure to see you again.”

“Nemesis.”

“Oh, please, it’s just ‘Zia,’ we’re friends now, after all.”

“Uh-huh…”

It could be midnight, it could be noon. All the window blinds in the bar are closed, the curtains drawn shut. Only the sodium yellow of light of antique lamps keep the place in a dim twilight. That suits you fine. The dark is safe. It’s always in the light where things have gone wrong. Even so… As you shrink into yourself against the thin booth cushion, the thought occurs that you might be pushing your luck by coming here.

Across from you, lounging across the length of her seat, Zia Basri toys with a lollipop between her fingers. She doesn’t look at you – doesn’t need to. “So, darling, what draws you back to me this time? Don’t tell me another errant farmhand lost his way?”

It’s hard not to think about what happened last month. Storming the military base, barely holding yourself together while Zia, no– _Nemesis_ effortlessly wrapped herself around mind after mind, pulling them into whatever shape she wanted. The speed and fluidity with which she worked, her ability to grace over multitudes without being overwhelmed in return…

“I… want your help for something.” You fidget with the hem of your blouse, chew at the inside of your cheek. “But not for a mission.”

A smirk pulls at Zia’s face and she finally turns her head to look at you. “You can just say you want _me_ you know.”

The heat rising up your face. “What? No, no no no no.” You wave your hands in protest. “That’s– that’s the last thing on my mind, _Jesus_.”

Zia tilts her head back and laughs, slapping her knee. “Darling, should see your face right now.” She takes a breath, still smirking. “Alright, well? What is it?”

You cover your face with your hands, doubling over. There’s no doubt she’s talented but… god, you’re going to regret this aren’t you? “I– I– I want you to teach me, uh–” You hesitate, not sure how to phrase it.

“_Teach_ you?” Zia blinks, her full attention on your now. When you dare to look up, she’s tapping her finger to her chin, thinking. After a moment Zia starts giggling.

“Um…?” You tilt your head. What is she laughing about now?

Zia shakes her head and waves a hand to you. “It’s nothing, just thought of something adorable. You were saying…?”

“You’re uh… really– really good at um,” You tug at your hair, “at uh, manipulating people. Uh– I– I– I mean–” You take a breath. Get a grip, girl. “–Telepathically.” You whisper the word and can feel the embarrassment wash over your face again.

Zia swings her legs around so she’s sitting upright in the booth. She leans in towards you across the table, her expression unreadable. “You want some lessons, is that it sweetheart?” The tender tone of her voice does absolutely nothing to put you at ease.

You bite your lip, grip the edge of your seat so your hands don’t shake. “Y-yeah.”

Zia stares you down, you don’t even last a full thirty seconds before breaking eye contact. You’re about to say something else when she finally answers: “No.”

“Wh-what?”You blink, risk looking back at her. You had been banking on her curiosity to bring her on board, now what? She’s still leaning in, watching you.

She pops the lollipop in her mouth, twirls it around before talking around it. “I already helped you for nothing once.” She leans back, crosses her legs. “Darling, what do I get out of this?” She takes the lollipop out her mouth, waves it around for emphasis. “Before, helping you meant hurting the Farm. Now?”

“Um–” You watch her expression carefully as you pick your words. “We– we’re, uh, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

There’s a brief flash of surprise in Zia’s eyes, and then it’s gone under a predatory interest as she leans back in. “Are we now?” She taps the lollipop to her lips, thinking. “Well.” You wait for her to continue. “Well! Friends do things together, don’t they?”

You slowly nod you head. Where is she going with this?

“Let’s have dinner then. As… _friends._ Friday night at the Hilltop. It’ll double as your first lesson.” She offers a hand across to you.

You shake her hand, trying not to let your internal panic show on your face. “S- Sou– sounds fair.”

It’s not until you’re halfway home it occurs to you this ‘friend’ hangout sounds an awful lot like a date.

———

You dither on the street corner outside the Hilltop, tugging at your shawl. Did you dress right? You wanted to look presentable for a restaurant of course, but not… _too_ presentable. But you don’t want her to think you’re not taking this seriously, so you can’t just throw on some sweats and call it a day. Shawl, tunic, undershirt, skirt, leggings… you had even gone with your good shoes, the suede ones with the 1” heel. For confidence.

Boy, you could use some confidence right now.

You phone chirps and you swing your purse around on your shoulder to dig the damn thing out. Now, which burner phone… oh, there. You pull out the one in the pink case and unlock it.

A text from Zia: ‘waiting inside. ur late’

You close your eyes and tilt your head back. You’d been waiting outside for her and she’s been in the damn place the whole time? Of course. Maybe… maybe you should have poked your head in first, just to check. Great start, chickadee!

Inside, you push pass the waiter at the podium. Let his gaze slide off you as you pull your shawl closed against the cold blast of the AC. Scanning the crowd of heads you feel something tap your shoulder and turn to see Zia alone at a back corner table. She raises a hand, an amused glint in her eyes.

To you relief Zia doesn’t seem to have dressed for tonight any differently than usual. Which is to say: extravagantly. A long black dress with fancy drooping sleeves, each wrist jingling with gold and silver bangles.

You slip through the crowd to sit across from her, putting your purse down next to you on the booth seat. “Sorry, sorry, I was waiting outside.”

“I know.”

“Oh.”

She smiles at you, on anyone else it would look innocent. “Oh don’t look like that, my dear little handmaiden.” Technically you’re taller than her, but boy does it never feel like it.

You glance nervously around you. “Okay, first of all we’re in _public–_”

Zia dismisses it with a hand wave, “Oh no one here will even notice.”

“–Second of all, _handmaiden_?”

“Adrestia, goddess of equilibrium and just revolt, is handmaiden to Nemesis, goddess of divine retribution. It’s rather fitting, don’t you think?”

You purse your lips in a tight frown. “No.”

“You don’t think? That’s a shame Ariadne, you really ought to try it sometime.”

You open your mouth to say something. Then think better of it.

Zia laughs. “You ought to relax a little.”

You choke. “_Relax_?”

“Your first lesson.” She slides a menu over to you. “You like metaphors, right dear?”

You eye her, where is she going with this? “…it’s been known to happen.”

“What happens when it rains?”

You blink at her. “When it rains?”

“Water falling from the sky, you’re familiar with the idea?”

“Yes, I am _familiar with the concept of rain._” You huff and hide your frown behind the menu.

“You–” She points at you with her own menu, “are the rain, and your… _target_ is the ground.”

You make a face. “What does that even _mean_?”

“Darling, what happens if you blast the ground with a fire house?”

“Um… you make a big wet mess?”

Zia titters, “Oh my, we are in _public_ sweetheart.”

“Huh? O-oh.” You face goes beet read and you sink into your seat. Of course Zia would take it there.

“But sure, dear. Blast the ground and you get a… sticky mess. But let the rain go long enough… saturate the earth,” She flashes teeth at you in a grin. “And you can rip off entire mountain sides.”

You’re trying to work out what exactly that even means when the waiter, a young woman with her hair pulled back in a ponytail steps up to your table. The interaction is brief and somehow you manage to get through ordering an item without embarrassing yourself, always a victory. Zia doesn’t stop grinning at you the entire time. A smug upturn at the corners of the mouth.

When the waitress finally turns to leave you shoot Zia an inquisitive glare. What is she up to? It’s a risk to do around someone as… persistent as Zia, but you let your mental shield drop slightly. The in-rush of chattering noise makes you wince. So many people, how to sort through everyone?

There’s that phantom nudge again. “What are you doing?”

Zia spreads her hands wide. “Me? Doing something, darling? If I tell you, it’s not much of a lesson, is it?”

You narrow your eyes. “That’s… that’s not how that works?” That does it though, like grabbing mud with your bare hands. Previously, when you worked together, you’d always conceived of Zia’s telepathic presence as the fraying ends of a rope, twisting and twining every which way. Now it seems more ephemeral than that, trails of thought dissipate if you try to hold on to any singular one too closely, only to reform when you shift focus. A mental mirage?

Zia rests her chin in her hands, elbows propped up on the table. “Figured it out yet?”

“So you are doing _something_ then.”

“A girl doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“S-spare me.” You close your eyes to better focus. Find Zia again, don’t bother trying to read what she’s thinking. Focus on the direction. _Who_ not _what_. Follow it down to–

Zia sighs, “Time’s up.” She leans back, watching your face.

There’s a crash of glass and people shouting and you jerk your head towards the source of the noise. One of the waiters has spilled a tray of drinks across a table, onto the floor, onto a pair of men sitting together at a table. You wince in sympathy.

Shaking her head, Zia drums her fingers on the table. “Daydreaming on the job.” She tsks. “Shameful, isn’t it, Ariadne?”

“You did that.”

Zia puts a hand to her chest. “_Me_? Why would I do something like that?”

“Is _this_ why you wanted to go somewhere public? So you could mess with people?”

The return of the waitress cuts off the conversation with your drinks, Zia smiles politely as she takes her wine glass. You nervously clutch your soda in both hands.

Zia lifts her glass to you, pinky finger outstretched. “Oh Ariadne, sweetheart, I don’t intend to spend tonight messing with a bunch of random strangers. Give me some credit.” You frown at the expression on her face. You’ll do no such thing. “Iintend to spend tonight messing with _you_.”

You fidget in your seat. Really, you should have known. She had no intention of actually helping you. There’s no promise of revenge to keep her focused on a goal this time. This is all just a big game to her. Well. That simplifies things actually. You shift to the edge of the booth chair, making ready to leave.

Zia’s amusement turns into worried frown. “Where are you going?”

You lift your hand to give her the finger but chicken out and turn it into a wave goodbye instead. “I’m going home, this– this is just going to be a waste of our time.”

“You’re leaving?” Zia blinks. “You can’t _leave_, dinner isn’t over yet.”

Brace yourself. This could go from bad to terrible in seconds. “I’m not your toy Zia, and neither is anyone else here. So– so– so yeah, I’m going.” You move to push yourself up but– you arm doesn’t comply, legs stay bent, you still sitting. How–? When did she–? When you let your guard down focusing on the thrum of thoughts around you. Fuck. Now that you know to look for it you can feel a low pressure headache, some other presence weighing you down. Metaphorically? Literally? Both? The more you try to stand up, the heavier you feel.

“I said we aren’t done yet.” Zia’s mouth is a grim slash. “You leave now and I’ll do more than cause a few embarrassing accidents.” You can practically see it now, in your head. The coil of Zia’s control spread out to every person in the building. Latent, waiting for the puppet master to start the show.

You can feel the tension in your shoulders, neck. Swallow the lump in your throat. How do you untangle this? You open your mouth. Good you can at least still speak. “W-why are you doing this Zia?”

“What do you mean ‘_why_’? You asked for my help. So that’s what I’ll do for you, my dear handmaiden.” She takes a sip from her wine glass. “You do so like to play the starry-eyed ingenue, all meek and innocent, but you don’t fool me Ariadne Becker.”

“Is that so.”

“Because you keep coming back to me. Because _you_ pulled the trigger.”

You flinch. “You pulled that trigger, not me.”

Zia wags a finger at you with her free hand. “We both did. More than that, it was your operation. Your plan. I was more… moral support.” Another sip from her wine glass, to hide her smile. “All I did was… give you a push at the end.”

You grip at your legs, dig fingernails through the fabric and into your skin. You glance around you. You can’t sense any off reactions, no one surreptitiously dialing the police to report a pair of lesbians discussing murder. You can still remember his face, the shape of his thoughts dwindling out like a dying candle.

“He deserved to die.” Zia drums her fingers on the table, nails painted a grey-black like tombstones. “I’m glad he’s dead. You are too, admit it.”

“I–” You falter. The truth is, you are glad he’s dead. Even if it hasn’t stopped a single nightmare, the world is a better place without him. That’s a conviction you can’t shake, no matter how much it makes your gut twist.

Zia’s expression turns incredibly smug. “See? Together we dealt justice that night. You should be proud of yourself. This self-flagellation act, sweetheart… who are you trying to fool? Stop denying who you are.”

“Th– th– that’s not the kind of person I want to be.”

She tuts, “Self-delusion it is then.”

“Uh– Excuse me.” Both of you jerk your heads towards the waitress holding a pair of plates. “Which of you is the hamburger?”

You sheepishly raise your hand. The plate is quickly shoved in front of you, while Zia’s bowl of pasta is dropped before her. The waitress makes herself scarce without even asking if there’s anything else either of you need. You can’t fault her for that.

“Terrible service, wouldn’t you say?” Zia toys with the fork in her hand. “Maybe I’ll trip her up next.”

“Zia, I don’t want your help anymore. This whole idea was a mistake.”

“Ari, Ari, Ari. Stop whining.” Zia rolls her eyes. “And stop denying yourself like this, it’s sad. How can you expect to get what you want from other people if you don’t acknowledge it to yourself first?”

You glare at her, try to take refuge in anger from the anxiety gnawing at your stomach. “And just what do you think I’m denying myself?”

“Well, _me_, for starters.” Zia smiles innocently at you. “I’ve heard your thoughts, seen those looks. And of course, you keep coming back.”

“Just because–” You want to bury your head in your hands. “I don’t want to– to have sex with you Zia. Jesus Christ.”

“Of course you do, everyone does.” She fans herself, “It’s nice to have the hard work I put into looking this good be appreciated.”

“Don’t you have any friends.”

Zia arches her eyebrows. “Well, there’s _you_ of course.”

“If– if we’re friends then let me leave right now and don’t harm anyone else.”

“Oh please, I’m not going to seriously _hurt_ anyone, give me some credit sweetheart.”

You take a breath, steeling yourself as you force yourself to stare her down. “Then prove it.”

The silence stretches between you. It seems absurd that no one else has noticed anything that’s gone between you two. Everyone wrapped up in their own lives. Not that you’re complaining. You dig your nails into your leg, let the sting of pain distract from the anxiety of holding Zia’s gaze.

After what feels like hours Zia turns her head, looking like she’s just swallowed something bitter. “Fine. Go. See if I care. –In fact, I don’t care.”

You try to stand up and find no weight pushing you back down. For a moment you debate getting your dinner packed up to go, but no, it’s fine, you’re not hungry. Just drop down a twenty on the table to cover your half. “Good night, Zia.”

You turn your back on her, careful to _walk_ not _run_, and flee the building before she can reconsider. You can feel her eyes on your back until you’ve walked several blocks away.

———

You haven’t seen or heard from Zia since the fiasco at the Hilltop. Mercifully you haven’t heard about anything disastrous happening after you left, so either Zia kept her word or she covered her tracks. You’re trying not to let it bother you. Hence today’s visit to the dog park (You absolutely refuse to call it the Boneyard). You’d never want one for yourself, but there’s still something relaxing about a gaggle of dogs.

“Ariadne.”

You’re yanked back to reality with a heart burst of panic. You’d explicitly propped yourself under a tree _away_ from the main paths to avoid running into anyone. You tense as you look up, scramble to your feet and get ready for trouble. It’s Zia. Zia’s standing in front of you.

“Basri,” you start with her name, that’s a safe enough topic. “It’s– it’s been awhile.” You brace yourself for the customary pressure of Zia’s curiosity prodding at your mind, but it doesn’t come. Huh.

“Enjoying the park, darling?” Zia turns to look at the pair of dogs chasing one another through the greenery down the hill. “You shouldn’t zone out like that. Dangerous. Could get hurt.”

You side-eye her, did she come here to threaten you? “Be a real pity if I ended up dead, huh?”

Zia actually flinches at that. “I don’t want you dead.”

“I’m ‘_too interesting_’ huh?” You cross your arms, still not turning to face her. Watch the dogs roll in the field, their humans further back watching too.

There’s silence and then, “I want your help with a heist.”

You frown, cross your arms. “Why? And why would I do that?”

“You’ve a talent for pathfinding, dear. And it’s the mayor we’re robbing.” As she speaks her customary sing-song confidence slowly filters back in. “I’m sure there’s plenty there my handmaiden would find interesting…?”

You let her hang while you think. Is this really worth the risk? It’s not like Zia’s had some magical change of heart. You wouldn’t trust it if she did, anyway. But she does seem… different today. More subdued? Less intense anyway. Unless this is another act to manipulate you.

“It will also be a… more appropriate venue for training.”

You bite your lip. Fuck it. One more chance, one more window to jump. You turn to face her, and gesture down to the path. “Walk with me?” You turn and go without waiting for a response. “And keep talking. I’ll consider it.”

Zia follows after you, speeding up so she can pull alongside. “Glad to have you on board, sweetheart.”

“I’m just hearing you out Zia, that’s all.”

“You know Ari,” You know that tone of voice; you brace yourself, “As the Nemesis to your Adrestia, you really ought to call me mistress.”

The absurdity of it almost gets you to laugh. “Absolutely not.”


End file.
